Leather and Lace
by Zeppelin Skies
Summary: Dean's still all stubborn leather and gunpowder, and his girl is still a bit of a wallflower, but there's enough heart to mend the broken bits between. He and Sam know the Job will probably never let them go, never let them have an apple pie life, but somehow their makeshift family survives. [Dean/OC. Sequel to "What it Takes" and "Do You Recall," but can be read as a stand-alone.]
1. Games People Play

**Summary: He's still all stubborn leather and gunpowder, and she's still a bit of a wallflower, but there's enough heart to mend the broken bits between. He knows, and Sam knows, and she knows it works the day they show up on her porch, and every day after. Their makeshift family surviving somehow. Dean/OC**

 **AN: This is sort of a collection of one-shots and drabbles to capture the aftermath of** _ **What it Takes**_ **(WIT), starting from the last chapters continuing on. There'll be flashback chapters here and there to break things up too. Requests will be accepted!**

 **The story title is taken from a song by Stevie Nicks, featuring Don Henley, "Leather and Lace," while the chapter title credit goes to Alan Parsons Project.**

* * *

 **Leather and Lace**

 _"Saying I'm fragile_  
 _I try not to be_  
 _I search only_  
 _For something I can't see,"_

 **—Stevie Nicks & Don Henley**

 _I: Games People Play_

"We are _not_ selling my parents house."

"Lena—"

"I said _no_ , Dean."

"You know we can't stay here. If the damn Djinn know where we are, how long do you think it's gunna take before something worse does?"

Most times, she didn't mind when he was right. Actually, Elena deferred to him on a lot of things.

She'd left it up to him whether or not he wanted to go hunting with his brother. While she wished it could be like things used to be, the three of them in the Impala driving down the interstate, she had a different life now. She had Annie.

Of course, Elena couldn't even say how happy she was when Dean decided to stay with her, but she couldn't help her own worry for Sam. She and Dean didn't know the Campbells. Not like Sam seemed to anyway.

Elena missed Sam too, and she could tell that even though Dean wanted to be here (and was almost happy here), he also wanted to be with his brother. She understood that too.

But right now, she couldn't fucking _stand_ that he was about to win an argument—a very important argument, mind you—with pure logic and none of the sudden anxiety she felt sliding under her skin.

"I just…I can't. I can't do it."

Her mother's garden was here. Her old jewelry, a sewing kit, pictures and other things Elena knew she wouldn't be able to take with her if they moved. She wouldn't be able to box it up like memorabilia, and stick it in some attic or storage unit, never to be seen again. Because she wouldn't be strong enough to open those boxes after they were closed.

Dean's hands gently on her shoulders brought a little comfort.

"I wish there was something else— _anything_ else."

His heart clenched at the tears swelling in her eyes, and he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her close. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she buried her face into his chest.

"We can just move," she said, her words muffled until she looked up at him. "We don't have to sell it."

His brows furrowed.

"'Just move?' We don't have the money to buy a house."

They were living off her parents' life insurance and Dean's job at the local mechanic. Not exactly a breadwinning lifestyle.

But Elena was suddenly quiet. The expression on her face was thoughtful, becoming more solemn as he watched her think. As much as he hated having to do this, knowing full well how much it would cost her, he didn't see any other choice.

"There might be a way," she said, though it didn't sound like she was happy about it.

"What do you mean?"

Elena looked skyward and sighed. She pulled away from him slowly, but didn't let go of his shirt, instead smoothing down wrinkles in a way that drew up a red flag in his mind.

"Remember how I told you about my mom's side of the family?" she asked, a little too innocently.

"Yeah…"

 _They're loaded, but insane_ , were her distinct words.

He didn't like where this was going.

"What would you say about taking a trip to New Jersey?"

* * *

" _So, is it like a day trip or what?_ "

"Man, I got no fuckin' clue," Dean said into his cell phone. He glanced behind him and checked again that Elena was in the kitchen. "She's on the phone with her aunt now."

" _What, you're just gunna show up there and ask for money?_ "

"We're a little more put together than that, Sam."

" _Hey, I'm just telling you what it sounds like._ "

"Nah, we're going there for a 'visit.' Elena's giving them some bullshit that since she had Annie, she realized it wouldn't be fair if our kid didn't have her whole family, not just us."

" _And that's a lie I'm guessing?_ "

"Apparently that side of the walnut tree kicked her mom out for marrying her dad, then cut all of them off. So yeah, Elena doesn't exactly care if they send her a fruit basket."

" _Okay, and what story did you guys come up with?_ "

Dean scratched the back of his head.

"Same one we've been using."

" _Fair enough. So they think she's married to a mechanic and just had a baby, and…what, she's ready to reconnect with her mom's family?_ "

"That's the basic line."

" _Well…good luck then._ "

"What'll you be doing?"

" _Same old. Caught a case and heading to Wisconsin._ "

"Send me some whiskey."

" _Sure_. _You'll probably need it._ "

"Yeah…talk to ya' later, Sammy."

Dean sighed and spotted Elena on the couch with Annie in front of her, sleeping in her bouncer. He made his way over and leaned against the armrest with his arms crossed.

"No, no, we'll definitely drive," Elena said. Her phone was still being propped up to her ear with a shoulder as she folded laundry and stared up at the weather forecast on the TV.

"Yes, we can still be there by one, the trip will only take two days…oh, you don't have to trouble yourself, we can…" Elena closed her eyes, willing herself to sound cheerful as she restrained a sigh. "Okay, thanks, Aunt Cindy. That sounds very nice…see you in a few days. Have a good night."

She dropped the pair of boxers she'd been folding into her lap and snapped her phone shut before falling back onto the couch.

"A few days, huh?" Dean asked.

"She insisted," she replied without opening her eyes. "Her son just got his doctoral license and they're throwing a lunch for him."

Dean snorted.

"A _lunch_."

"Be glad it isn't a _brunch._ "

"Think they'll have those fancy lady sandwiches?"

"I'm sure they'll have anything short of seared prawns."

"Ain't that just fancy shrimp?"

Elena cracked an eye open at him.

"You're going to need something to wear."

"What, _clothes?_ Think I've got those."

She closed her eyes again and shook her head.

"No, Dean…no."

He sighed and nudged her over, clearing a space for him to sit on the couch beside her.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I have some nice things."

"Like what?"

His eyes then lightened with mischief. He leaned closer to her, one of his hands beginning to smooth a trail up her thigh while the other tangled in her hair, at the base of her neck.

"That sexy black thing I know you've got hidden in the back of your closet?"

Her mouth twitched as his found just below her ear, tickling her as well as sending tingles down her spine. She opened her eyes and turned her head toward him, almost but not quite meeting his lips with her own.

"The top I wore to that bar a million years ago?"

"Was only a couple years ago."

She shifted away from him a bit, disappointing him as she crossed her arms.

"If I remember right, you didn't like that blouse."

His brows drew together in confusion, while she smiled.

"You asked me if I'd lost a fight with a pair of scissors."

"'Cause it was all open in the back. It was thirty degrees outside!" he defended himself, but his eyes betrayed him.

"That was a bullshit excuse and you know it," she smirked. Dean raised a brow at her, but smirked back.

"Okay," he said. They could play this game.

He leaned forward and slipped his hand underneath her shirt that was clinging to her form. She still hadn't lost the curves she'd gained from the pregnancy, and he liked that. She complained about feeling too snug in her jeans. In his opinion, it just made everything she wore fit better.

His hands met at the small of her back and threaded behind her, bringing her close enough that their chests touched.

"You're right." He leaned forward, leaving barely a space between her lips and his. "Maybe seeing you like that made me wish we weren't going anywhere that night."

Her smile grew. He knew very well they hadn't even been close to dating back then, but it was a night they almost kissed for the first time…after a fair share of alcohol.

"Oh yeah?" she asked coyly, though her arms slid around his neck, her hands in his hair. "Why's that?"

Instead of moving forward that one inch, Dean bypassed her lips to whisper in her ear.

"Maybe seeing a little piece of what I couldn't have made me want to take the whole thing off."

Elena shivered.

"Who said you couldn't have it then?" she uttered.

"What do you mean?" he asked, pausing with his lips against her neck. She smirked then, and it was her turn to whisper in his ear.

"Why do you think I wore it, Dean? It wasn't _Sam_ I could feel checking out my ass like a third-degree burn."

He smiled against her skin before blazing a trail to her lips. She tilted her head and bit his lower lip, almost eliciting a base groan from him as his fingers slid down into her jeans. Dean began pushing her back onto the couch, but was stopped by a short, piercing cry that startled both parents.

Annie looked up at them with wide green eyes and a toothless smile. She kicked her feet a couple times, effectively bouncing herself in the bouncer. Elena couldn't believe she forgot her own child was there, watching.

But not _really_ watching, right? How much could a six month old process?

Dean narrowed his eyes playfully at the smiling face.

"What do ya want?"

"Dean!"

"She should go back to sleep if she doesn't wanna get traumatized."

Elena reached with a blind hand and found the pair of boxers that had fallen from the folded pile.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Uh, _yeah_."

She smacked him with his own underwear.

* * *

She wasn't worried.

She wasn't.

It would just be her, Dean, and Annie. And Aunt Cindy, Uncle Tony, her cousins—however many of them that showed—and their parents, Great Aunt Rosetta and Great Uncle Sergio, and her grandmother. Her grandmother, whose stern face and sharp eyes had seared hers as a kid.

These were people she hadn't seen in over a decade, who didn't know she hunted the supernatural. Whose hunter boyfriend knocked her up and proceeded to stop the apocalypse from happening with his hunter brother. A hunter boyfriend she was not, in fact, married to.

A hand grasped her shoulder gently.

"You okay?" Dean asked. His gruff voice was both soothing and grounding.

"…Yeah."

Stiff nod.

"You ready?"

Slow breath.

…Another nod.

"Want me to knock?"

"No…I got it."

He slipped his free hand, the one that wasn't hefting Annie's carrier, into hers that had been shaking. She laced their fingers together and allowed herself one more deep, solidifying breath.

"Okay," she whispered.

It wasn't long before the door was answered.

"Hi, we're…I'm Elena Hayes. My aunt—"

"Ah yes, Mrs. Verona is expecting you. Please come in, and if I may, I can take your bags for you."

She wasn't worried.

* * *

Dean squeezed her hand once they stepped into the foyer. It was grand, like everything else about the oceanfront home. That was Long Beach for you.

Elena leaned slightly against him.

"It's bigger than I remember," she whispered. "It's weird."

"Why's that weird?" He had to crane his head downward a bit to whisper back.

"I was like…eight the last time I was here. Aren't things supposed to seem smaller when you grow up?"

Dean glanced up, taking in his surroundings by shaking his head.

"Maybe they renovated."

"Elena, darling, there you are!"

Cynthia Tiberio-Verona came down the wooden staircase with all the grace in her off-white ensemble and matching cream and gold wedges that Elena had spent almost three hours trying to perfect on her own black skirt and dark blue blouse. She'd even tucked it in, for Christ's sake.

"Hi, Aunt Cindy—"

The woman was already enveloping her into a series of perfunctory greeting motions, complete with a barely-touching kiss of the cheek and earnestly grasping Elena's hands at the finish.

"Hello, dear. It's been _much_ too _long_ …"

Elena felt as well as watched her aunt's appraising gaze that spared no inch, even down to her velvet dress shoes, elevated only at three inches (it was all she could handle without tripping).

"It appears you've grown up," she said, her cherry red lips smiling. There was something simultaneously genuine and fake about that smile. Something the Tiberio family had not invented, but in fact, had perfected. Aunt Cindy had married a Verano, but remained a Tiberio at her core as that assessing gaze shifted to her niece's companion, who tried his best to smile politely.

"This must be the husband you spoke of over the phone." The genial lilt to the Italian vowels of her accent hid something leading.

Dean was forced to let go of Elena's hand so he could introduce himself.

"Yes, I believe I know who you are," Cindy graciously shook his hand.

Not exactly a "nice to meet you," but the subtle smile never left her face as she turned her attention to the peacefully sleeping infant in the carrier. Dean lifted it so Cindy wouldn't have to bend very far to see her.

"And this angel must be Anna-María."

"Ann Marie," Elena corrected almost immediately, and cursed herself for doing so, as her aunt gave her a side glance and a raise of a brow that was at once playful, polite, yet the slightest bit reproving.

"Annie," Elena said, sinking herself deeper without being able to help it. "We call her Annie."

Cindy only smiled.

"Ah, of course," she said smoothly, though it was somewhat belated. "Well, everyone is already here. Fredrick will take your things up to the room prepared for you, and since you are not the only one with small children, we have hired an assistant for the day to take care of them. To give us adults time to chat, yes?"

Elena didn't think she heard right.

"Oh, you mean a nanny? You hired a _nanny?_ "

"Just for the day, darling. Angela—there she is now. Angela! Come, dear. This is my niece, Elena, and her husband…Dean, was it? Yes, and their daughter Anna."

"She's beautiful, miss, just adorable!"

"Thank you," Elena said hesitantly.

"These are supplies, yes?" Cindy asked, pointing to the large bag on Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, but—"

"I can take that for you," Angela offered.

"Please do," Cindy gestured for the woman to come forward and help the bag off Dean's shoulder, but the man recoiled a bit with uncertainty.

"Whoa, wait a second," Dean protested, and sent Elena a look that clearly said he didn't like this situation. His daughter wasn't going with anyone he didn't know.

"Hold on… _ **stop**_ _!_ " Elena intervened, and stopped both Cindy and Angela's hands despite their confused looks. "She's only six months old. We've never left her in the care of anyone else before."

"I assure you, I'm a professional," Angela said earnestly. "I promise to take only the utmost care with her."

"How many kids you lookin' after?" Dean asked.

"Four. Two of them are seven and nine, so they will be entertained at their own table while I look after Chr…" Angela faltered slightly, but quickly corrected herself. "—Mr. Verano's two-year-old, and your Annie."

"Take it from me, one's already got your work cut out for you," he said, and held Annie's carrier decidedly close to his side. "We can take care of her."

Elena plastered a polite smile on her face and turned to her aunt with all the restraint she possessed.

"Aunt Cindy, I think we forgot something in the car. Would you mind if we stepped out for a second? We'll be right back and ready to meet everyone."

Cindy raised a bemused brow, but she eventually nodded.

"…Yes, dear. Go right on ahead. I have something to attend to, but I'll be back by the time you will, I'm sure."

"Perfect," Elena said, and held out a hand to Angela. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

" _No_ , Elena."

"Listen, just hear me out."

"I don't fucking _know_ these people—"

"Angela _stays_ in our line of vision. We can get through this lunch in one piece, and we don't look like the backwards idiots thoseuptight assholes already think we are."

"Your aunt thinks you're a backwards idiot?" Dean asked her dubiously. Elena gave him a flat look.

"Dean."

"…All right, all right. But _in my sight_ , Lena. I mean it."

"I do too! You think I want to let go of her for half a second? Who gave birth here, me or you?"

"Hey, I cut the cord! I was in that room when you were drugged out with your legs put up!"

"Twenty hours of labor, Dean. Do you know what that is?"

"Oh, come on. I had a kidney stone once. Pretty much the same thing, right?"

Elena waited until Annie's carrier was safely on the ground before punching Dean in the stomach.

* * *

The cloth in his hand ran over steel and silver evenly, methodically, until old stains were memories, bland as his thoughts.

The cell phone lighting up on the nightstand, ringing and vibrating suddenly in the quiet, didn't even startle him. He paused in his task long enough to check the caller ID, debated momentarily with himself, hesitating, then holding it to his ear after hitting "ANSWER."

"Hello?"

" _Sam…is that you?_ "

"Yeah, it's me."

There's a heavy sigh on the other line.

" _Thank God. I guess…you sound alive._ "

"I said I would call," he reminded. "It's not safe for you to call me."

Not altogether true, but not exactly a lie either.

" _I know…but I…I was worried._ "

"I know," said Sam (did he?). "What are you up to?"

" _Well, I got an apartment in New York City not long after we talked the last time. I work for an art gallery now._ "

"That's great," he answered mechanically.

" _Yeah_ , _it's great out here! But…what are you doing now?_ "

"The usual, I guess," he said. "I'm working with some relatives now."

" _With Dean?_ "

"No…he's with Elena in South Dakota." Sam restrained a sigh of boredom, even though he never remembered being bored talking to Sarah before. "Listen, Sarah, you caught me at a bit of a bad time…"

A lie.

"Can I call you back?"

" _Oh…sorry. Yeah, I just thought…it's been over a year since I've seen you. You know…in person._ "

"I've been…busy."

" _Yeah, I get that. I just…you promised me you would tell me…_ "

"I know," Sam said. "And I will…when I can, I'll come see that new apartment."

" _Look, I know there's something wrong. I can hear it in your voice._ "

Sam, not knowing what to say, didn't answer.

" _Just…take care of yourself. Please?_ "

"…I will."

The phone hung loosely in his hand as he fought to understand the past few minutes. In his mind, in memories, he could see himself smiling at the sound of her voice. Frowning at the sound of her problems.

" _I know there's something wrong…"_

Ever since _that_ night, his mind had been blank, shades of black and white, when vaguely, he remembered there used to be color. Sparks of anger, relief, sadness, joy…

He wracked his brain, processing blank thoughts, and found nothing.

 _Something wrong…_

* * *

They were led to the backyard veranda and served white wine, and were greeted by several of Elena's family members. Then her cousin Christopher, the guest of honor and Cindy's son, turned to her with a glass of wine in hand and a perfectly crafted smile. She was sure there were thousands of dollars in that smile.

"Elena, I hardly recognized you! What's it been, a decade?"

"About fifteen years," she corrected, but smiled as brilliantly as she could muster. "How are you, Chris?"

He dragged her into a cold, but polite hug before pulling away from her.

"I'm great," he continued. "I've just got my father's practice going in New York. I have to go back tomorrow, but it was thoughtful of my mother to put this together."

"I'm glad everything worked out for you," she said, and smiled up at Dean when he slipped his hand into hers after refilling his wine glass.

"Hi, I'm Dean," he said, and greeted the man with a firm handshake.

"Ah, you're her husband then."

"That's right."

"And my mother tells me you have a baby now too?"

"She's six months," Elena supplied, smiling.

"Congratulations. I'm sure that's difficult," Christopher said mildly, and greeted a blonde who came to his side with a kiss. "This is my wife, Natalie."

"Elena. Distant cousin," Elena said, and shook the woman's hand. Dean mustered a smile. He'd been faking the expression so long his cheeks were starting to hurt.

"Pleasure to meet you," Natalie replied, and her smile showed off perfectly whitened teeth as the diamonds in her earrings sparkled.

"Dean," he said. She smiled back, while Christopher laughed loudly.

" _Distant?_ Yes, I suppose you could say that. Where is it you live now? Somewhere dust-eaten if I remember right."

Elena bit her tongue.

"South Dakota," she managed "pleasant" in her tone.

"Really, was that it?" Christopher asked.

"All my life," Elena said, and addressed Natalie, who hung onto her cousin's shoulder in a dress that looked far too snug to be comfortable.

"It was nice to see you," she said, and slid her hand around Dean's arm, ready to part ways.

"How about we save two seats at our end of the table," Christopher offered, to Elena's surprise. She'd thought he would've let them go without a second glance.

"Um…sure. But, I thought Aunt Cindy had arranged the seating."

"I asked her not to. More spontaneous that way, no?" he said, and placed a hand on the small of Natalie's back. "See you in a bit."

Elena and Dean watched the couple go before glancing at one another.

"I didn't know sitting was that spontaneous," he remarked. She sighed.

"It's just one night," she said, though she didn't know who she was reassuring.

Dean squeezed her hand, and she was damn grateful. He'd bought a new suit. A _real_ suit, though decidedly more casual than his usual FBI getup, and was here with her, talking to people he couldn't give a rat's ass about just because she asked him to. And he was holding her hand.

"Lunch hasn't even started, and I wouldn't have gotten this far without you," Elena admitted. "Thanks for coming with me."

He raised her hand to his lips.

"Come on. You're starving. _I'm_ starving." He smirked down at her. "Time for fancy shrimp."

* * *

"So Dean," Christopher said. Apparently conversation had circled enough that the man remembered him. "What's your line of work in?"

"My line of work," Dean repeated. Christopher sliced open a crab leg and buttered it before popping it into his mouth.

"I mean, I'm sure you're accomplished. But I can't imagine there's much to choose from in the Midwest, other than agriculture," he said with a self-amused grin.

Dean's reflexively turned a bit cold.

"I'm a mechanic."

"Ah, do you own your own dealership, is that it?" asked one of Elena's uncles. Tony, if he remembered right.

"No, I work for a local shop. The owner's my boss."

"Really, that small?" Christopher mused.

"Ever put any thought into owning your own?" asked Gino, his younger brother who was in the process of making a name for himself working in a chemistry lab for snack products.

"Long as my family's taken care of, I'm fine," Dean said curtly.

"He works very hard," Elena cut in. Under the table she squeezed his knee in support.

"I'm sure he does, dear," said Cindy. She held a glass of wine to her lips and added, "But a little ambition never hurt anyone."

"Being ambitious isn't always a strength," Elena replied, meeting her aunt's eyes calmly.

"Of course it is. How else can one make a profit?" Christopher laughed. "Well, besides knowing everyone in the business."

"The economy's good for it now," said Great Aunt Rosetta from across the table. "Good time to build up a business."

"What're you blabbing on about?" her husband beside her exclaimed. "This is the worst the economy's ever been!"

"I beg to differ—"

"Just what in the hell do _you_ know about business?"

"I know plenty more than you, _si vecchio salsiccia!_ "

" _Salsiccia, eh? Devo essere vecchio non ho notato che ho sposato una strega croccante!_ "

"I swear to God, they'll argue until hell freezes them both over," Christopher waved dismissively to Dean, whose brows were raised in amusement.

"Been married fifty two years and still can't agree on anything short of the food they're shoving in their mouths," Gino remarked, and took a generous bite of his filet mignon. Some of its juices squirted from the corner of his mouth, staining his chin and making his mother roll her eyes.

"Do clean yourself, son. For heaven's sake," Cindy muttered.

"That's a long time," Dean commented.

"An eternity," Gino scoffed. Christopher scoffed and clasped a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You only say that because you haven't found a woman."

"I _did_ , you just got to her first," Gino teased.

"Well then you shouldn't have introduced us," Christopher grinned, and held Natalie's hand that wore her rather large marriage rings well.

"How did you two meet?" Elena asked. The younger woman sat next to her smiled prettily.

"I was Gino's secretary for a while," she said, her voice soft and velvety as she glanced over at Christopher. "Chris came in one day to see him, and I buzzed him in. He asked his brother about me and Gino introduced us."

Christopher smiled and laid his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together.

"Naturally I got her number and took her to lunch that day."

Natalie shared a sweet smile with him.

"We were married less than six months later."

"Six months?" Dean couldn't help but ask incredulously.

"More like four and a half, but it took forever to get the Plaza Hotel booked for the reception," Christopher said, absently toying with Natalie's wedding rings.

Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead turning to Cindy.

"Where's Grandma?" she asked. Her aunt paused to sip her wine. Elena thought the action deliberate.

"She hasn't been feeling well lately," said Cindy. "She is in the house, upstairs resting."

 _Avoiding her own kids, and the rest of her childrens' kids, probably_ , Elena thought. Her grandmother was never the kindest woman, nor was she very social, especially without her grandfather, who Elena had few memories of. Though she remembered a graying, smiling man who once offered her fresh gingerbread cookies one at the only Christmas she'd ever went to at the Tiberio house—the same cookies she and Christopher had tried to pilfer before Aunt Cindy had caught them.

"But," Cindy said after a moment, "She asked for you, after supper. I mean to say earlier."

"Really?" Elena asked, veiling her surprise as mild interest. She thought she was going to have to sneak upstairs during coffee and dessert.

"Yes, you and your husband. I'll have someone see you upstairs when you're ready."

Elena shared a glance with Dean, who discreetly squeezed her hand under the table.

"Okay," she said. "Thanks."

* * *

"So, what's the big deal about your grandmother? Didn't you tell me she's just a senile old bag?" Dean whispered behind the butler's back.

Elena gave him a fierce look as they made their way down the hall on the second floor of the mansion.

"She is, but she basically controls the family from here in the main house," Elena whispered lowly. "Everyone's afraid of her."

"Why?"

"She makes Bobby look like a Hallmark card."

Dean pressed his chuckle into a smirk as the butler stopped at a door and the end of the hallway.

"One moment, please," he said, an unreadable expression on his face as he turned his back to them and knocked three times on the door.

" _What is it?_ " a woman's low, snappish voice came from inside.

"Visitors, ma'am."

" _Who is it?_ "

"Your granddaughter and her husband for you, ma'am."

" _...Send them in._ "

The butler opened the door for them.

"She will see you now," he said. Elena and Dean nodded at him politely and entered a spacious bedroom that looked more like a living room at first, with a couch set in the center and a fireplace to the side. It was decorated as if Spanish style met Victorian—a clash of simple wood with gaudy wall hangings, paintings, tall candles, and small statues Dean made specific effort not to knock over.

Paloma Tiberio sat in a large cushioned chair, her gray and black threaded hair swept in a loose bun and a book in her lap. Dressed in comfortable, but elegant house robe, she appeared to be more like an old duchess than the head of a wealthy family.

"Hello, Elena," she said. Then her eyes, sharp for a woman over eighty, shifted with calculation. "And Dean, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Dean, nodding politely. He inwardly debated whether to offer his hand in greeting, but didn't think it would make a difference.

"Sit," she said, and motioned to the couch opposite her. Elena and Dean sat down stiffly.

"So…how've you been, Grandma?" Elena asked, trying not to sound tentative but also not sound too direct. Her grandmother had bluntness in spades.

"Here," she replied crisply, and retrieved a cup of tea from a tray next to her, raising it to her lips. "Running this household while my siblings and their children live frivolous lives."

Elena had to pause, considering her words with care.

"Sounds stressful," she said politely.

"Your older cousins are destroying a business my husband spent ten years building in Florence, then the next thirty in America after the war destroyed it." Paloma sighed, as if remembering who she was speaking to. "But I believe congratulations are in order. When were you two married?"

"Two years ago," Elena lied, sharing a glance with Dean. "Our daughter just turned six months."

Her grandmother raised a brow.

"I see you wear no ring," she said flatly. Elena blanked for an entire second, then mentally kicked herself.

 _How could I have forgotten something so stupid?_

She could've just worn her mother's wedding ring. It was in a box in Elena's dresser.

"We were in a delicate financial situation when we married," Dean said, giving her knee a gentle squeeze. "Now that we're more comfortable, I plan on finding the biggest rock I can get."

When Dean grinned and winked subtly at her, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

 _You're such a dork._

But that stupid grin was everything she fell for a year ago.

"I see," Paloma said, with a certain lilt in her voice that snapped Elena's attention back to the situation at hand. Her grandmother sipped her tea again.

"I suppose the wedding was a small affair then?" she continued. "I assume, because you neglected to invite your mother's family. And I imagine there was no christening…for the child, I mean."

"It was very small," Elena replied, trying to keep her tone as civil as possible. If there was one thing that pissed her off beyond reason, it was passive aggressive. "And no, there was no christening."

"I only ask, because it seems rather odd of you to come here now, when any offering of making amends could have been extended then, at a more prudent time." Paloma shut the book on her lap and set it on the tea tray. Elena stared back calmly, though her body was tense with anger. Dean glanced over at her from the corner of his eye and wondered how long it would take before she snapped.

"I haven't done anything wrong," said Elena. "I didn't come here to make amends."

"That's not what my daughter said." Paloma folded her hands. "I heard about your father's passing. My condolences."

Elena was too angry to reply, or even offer a nod.

"I had thought that, perhaps, you would come to rectify what had been broken after Lorelei ran off with him, bless her soul."

For a long moment Elena stared at the too nonchalant woman in front of her. A woman she should have respect, even have some kind of love for.

"How dare you?"

A kind of incredulous anger was burning furiously just under her skin.

"You have no right to talk about either of my parents."

Paloma raised a brow.

"She's my daughter—"

"She was _my_ mother, and she would never have done to me what you did to her." Elena's voice and body shook, but her gaze was steady, even when she stood up sharply and reached out her hand to Dean, who followed her lead and took her hand in his.

"And if you ever cared about what happened to her _at all_ , you would've come to her when she was dying on a hospital bed."

Just as she turned to leave, Dean at her side, her grandmother's voice stopped her.

"You're leaving then," she said, her gaze knowing. "Without asking me for money?"

Elena paused, then slowly turned on her heel.

"You're no different from the other brats my children made," said Paloma. "Somehow they never grew out of bleeding their old grandmother for a signed check, a favorite pastime I suppose."

Elena shook her head.

"I don't need your money."

Paloma scoffed.

"Yes you do. Why else come here?" she asked. "Not to settle a grudge that began before you were even born."

"I just wanted to save the last bit of them I could," said Elena. "But not like this. I won't play your sick game."

"Game? What game?" Paloma asked. "It's not I that's been lying ever since you were welcomed in."

Elena shook her head, subconsciously clenching the fist at her side and Dean's hand at the other.

"Fair enough," she said. "But while you sit there and pass judgment on your family like the damn Godfather, my mom was a real mother. But coming here?"

Elena sighed and shrugged.

"It taught me something," she said. "So thanks."

Her grandmother smiled mildly and leaned her chin on her hand.

"And what would that be?" she asked. Elena smiled, her eyes shining.

"She did a damn good job."

* * *

Once Annie was strapped in the backseat and they were over ten miles away from the estate, Dean pulled over and let Elena cry into his new suit for a while.

"You kicked ass, babe," he assured, while his fingers slid soothingly through her hair. "You have nothing to feel bad about."

"But what happened to me, Dean?" she asked, with a sniffle. "What happened to my fucking pride? My dad would roll over in his grave if I'd taken money from that bitch. Why didn't you stop me?"

"Hey, it's your family," Dean said, tightening his hold on her. "And I knew you'd listen to whatever your gut was telling you when the time came."

Then he smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Whatever you decided to do, I would've backed your play." Then his expression became playful. "You've followed me blind enough times for me to pay you back. Just this once though."

Elena's mouth twitched at a smile. She leaned up and kissed him softly.

"I'll take that as a thank you," he said. Her smile deepened, and she closed her eyes, leaning her forehead tiredly against his chest. He rubbed her arms soothingly.

"Dean…"

 _I love you._

The words nearly came out.

She inhaled deeply, let the breath out slowly.

"Can we go home?" she asked. He smiled and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"Yeah."

He sat straight in the driver's seat of the Impala and sped back onto the road, giving the finger to the car honking furiously behind.

Elena shook her head and twisted to see Annie still asleep (miraculously) in the backseat.

"Remind me to call Bobby when we get back," she said. "We might need his truck to help get some of the loads into storage."

Dean glanced at her out the corner of his eye.

"You sure, Lena?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling sadly. "It won't be forever."

Dean sent her one last look before letting out a long breath through his nose.

"Where do you wanna move?" he asked.

"I dunno…Chicago?"

"Nah. Too many fucking people. Indiana?"

"No. Too much corn, not enough civilization."

"There's plenty of nice towns in Indiana."

"Come on, Dean. If we're gunna move, let's live somewhere fun for once. How about Minneapolis?"

"I've had enough of Minnesota to last me a lifetime. How about…Sioux City? It's only an hour and a half from Sioux Falls."

Elena considered it.

"Do you think it's far enough from Hill City?"

"Probably, but let's look at some places at least as far as Illinois just to be sure."

"What about Sam? I'm worried about him, out there on his own," Elena said. Dean's expression turned more solemn at the mention of his brother.

"He's not alone," he said eventually. "He's hunting with family on my mom's side, remember?"

"I know, and no offense but…can we trust them?" she asked.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "But Sam does…that's gotta be enough for now, I guess."

No matter how uneasy it made him.

* * *

The phone was in his hand. His thumb hovering over the call button.

 _Do it._

He should...but why should he?

Dean's number was stark bold on the small iPhone screen, but something kept him from pressing the button.

 _I'm fine_ , he thought blankly. _I'm fine._

"Sam?"

Samuel was calling for him, probably an update on their werewolf hunt.

Sam pocketed his phone.

"Coming."

* * *

 **This will probably be the longest chapter, but don't hold me to that! Let me know what you guys thought and I'll see how soon I can get the next chapter out.**

 **~Translations –**

 **Italian:**

" **I know plenty more than you,** _ **si vecchio salsiccia!**_ **"**

" _ **Salsiccia, eh? Devo essere vecchio non ho notato che ho sposato una strega croccante!**_ **"**

 **English:**

" **I know plenty more than you,** _ **you old sausage!**_ **"**

" _ **Sausage, eh? I must be old not to have noticed I married a crusty hag!**_ **"**


	2. Easy Like Sunday Morning

**AN: Thanks to those who reviewed and are now following this! This next one is just a one-shot you guys might enjoy. Takes place sometime during chapter 25 of** _ **Do You Recall**_ **, the first and main story of this series.**

 **Chapter title cred to Earth, Wind, & Fire.**

* * *

 **Leather and Lace**

 _II: Easy Like Sunday Morning_

Around one in the morning, Sam wakes up up by the wall closest to him being banged on. _Loudly_ , like someone fell, and there's a cry of pain that follows. When he remembers that it's his brother and Elena in the motel room next to him, his internal alarm system propels him to sit up, because for a brief moment he thinks the angels found them again and are trying to take Dean, and _thank God these walls are paper thin_.

The blankets are tossed aside and he's halfway out of bed when he hears a low, but feminine moan. He pauses.

" _Hmm…wow,_ " he hears, though it's muffled.

" _That's okay then?_ " And Sam knows that's Dean.

Another low hum answers the question, and Sam deflates. Embarrassment makes him close his eyes and drag both hands over his face as he sits back down on the bed heavily.

" _Feels nice._ "

" _Yeah?_ "

" _Slow down…_ "

Sam raises the covers high over his head in attempt to drown out the noises, but it only serves to muffle it slightly.

" _Yeah…all the way d—ow!_ "

" _Sorry, it snagged._ "

" _Yeah, I kinda felt it._ "

" _Just relax._ "

There's a feminine sigh and Sam has to hold a pillow over his head before it all fades away enough to let him fall back to sleep.

* * *

Dean comes into his room the next morning with a cup of instant coffee as a wakeup call.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!"

The cup is set loud enough on the bedside table that it makes Sam start a little, but he's effectively awake, and glad that there's no Asia playing.

"You look like shit," Dean comments. One of his smirks is in place rather early for it being before nine, and Sam glances up at him witheringly.

"Yeah well, it was kind of hard to sleep." Sam's voice is coarse and he's probably going to have bags under his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping that great anyway, with the end of the world being nigh and all that.

"Why's that?" Dean asks, a little curiously. Sam _really_ doesn't want to get into this before he's even brushed his teeth, but still replies dryly,

"The walls are thin, Dean. Sound travels."

Dean's face scrunches a little in confusion, though there's something in his eyes that Sam doesn't miss.

"What do you mean? We didn't do anything last night."

Sam raises incredulous brows.

"Dean, you woke me up. I heard half an hour more than I ever wanted or needed to hear."

"Dude, seriously," Dean says, with his "for real" face, though Sam can tell he's hiding something. "Nothing happened."

Sam rolls his eyes.

"Know what? Whatever…I'm gunna take a shower," he says, because he really doesn't feel like talking about this when he's barely even conscious.

"Hey, don't say I didn't tell you," Dean says, and closes the door behind him on his way out.

* * *

Breakfast is slightly awkward between the brothers as they both eat cereal in Dean's room, since it actually has a kitchen and a couch in the "living room."

"Dean, have you seen my brush?" Elena asks once she comes out of the bathroom, changed from her PJs into a pair of jeans and a shirt.

"What?" Dean says belatedly around a mouthful of cheerios.

"My _hairbrush_ , I can't find it since—"

"I dunno," Dean tells her, but does glance over his shoulder at her. "Have you checked—"

"Found it," she says triumphantly after lifting the bottom corners of the bed sheets. "Wonder how it got in there…"

She shoves the brush into her bad before heading into the kitchen. She comes out a couple minutes later with her own bowl of cereal, and Dean gives her his seat because he's done with his breakfast.

Sam and Elena eat in a somewhat companionable silence once Dean leaves the room, and when the sound of the kitchen sink can be heard, she looks over at him.

"He wanted to brush my hair."

Sam blinks, taken off guard. He looks over at her, puzzled, until he realizes what she means.

"…What?" he asks flatly, because he can't picture his brother initiating that scenario. Elena shrugs, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Your brother's a dork sometimes," she says, but it's with a fondness that Sam recognizes.

"So…that was…"

"He was very gentle."

Elena winks at him, and it makes Sam flush with embarrassment.

"Of course, he wasn't about to tell you that," she whispers and leans toward him conspiringly. "So you didn't hear it from me."

Sam nods, and smiles a little.

If that wasn't future ammunition, he didn't know what was.


	3. Against the Wind

**AN: This chapter continues chapter 1, "Games People Play." The story title cred goes to Bob Seger.**

* * *

 **Leather and Lace**

 _III: Against the Wind_

Despite her better judgment, she encourages Dean to go hunting with his brother. He comes back after meeting the rest of the Campbells, not completely trusting them but not wanting Sam to hunt alone. But after he asks Dean to help him and Castiel find pieces of Moses' broken staff, she gets the hint that Dean is torn between living with her and hunting with Sam.

She knows he isn't used it—not being able to watch Sam's back, not doing what their father ingrained so deeply into both of them.

It's painful for her, but the only way she knows how to help him is to let him go for a while, with the promise that both of them come home between hunts.

" _Sam…I dunno, he's always on the move," Dean says. "He might not always come back with me."_

 _Elena is put off for a moment, but she shrugs and manages a smile._

" _That's okay. Just tell him…make sure he knows he's always welcome here."_

 _Dean's mouth twitches at a smile, though his eyes can't make the same effort._

" _I will," he says, and kisses her brow on his way out the door with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder._

" _Dean," she calls without meaning to. She feels small in the doorway, and hopes she doesn't look as left behind as she feels._

 _His head swivels back to her, but when he sees her face, he turns back fully and sighs a little through his nose, smiling halfheartedly. He starts back up the gravel, up to the porch, and stops when he's able to look down at her softly._

 _She meets him halfway in a kiss that's tender, in a way they haven't for a while._

" _I'll see you soon," he says._

Now that they live a small, but cozy two-story house in Sioux City, she gets a job at a local school as a receptionist for the communications department. The daycare for Annie is free, and its long hours bring in about what Dean was making at the mechanic shop in Hill City.

But it's a freezing, stormy night a few months later when she's only just dragged herself into bed after a ten-hour shift and half a night of rocking Annie to sleep.

Then she hears the bedroom window slide open.

* * *

The second Dean sees her, he knows he's made a terrible mistake by coming here.

The smell of her fear is dissipating slowly as her wide gray eyes recognize him, but he can still hear the pounding of her blood in his supersensitive ears.

" _Dean_ , you scared the shit out of me!" she whispers fiercely, holding a hand to her beating heart. "Did you just get in?"

She looks in confusion to the window that's now closed, though she could've sworn she heard it slide open.

"You look exhausted. Did you drive all night?" she asks.

He wants to answer, but her smell is overwhelming his senses, even over three feet away. It doesn't help when she turns on the light, momentarily blinding him.

Elena slides out of their bed, wearing nothing but one of his shirts over her underwear. She draws close and reaches for him, but he pulls himself back subconsciously.

The way he is now, Dean doesn't know how much control he has over his own body, but he's damn grateful for the part of his brain still in control enough to protect her.

"What's wrong?" Elena asks, worry setting in. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah," he says eventually, choking on a humorless laugh, "but I…I didn't want to worry you…I just wanted to see you."

 _Just in case I don't make it back again…_

"What's going on, Dean?" she says. He knows the anxiety in her eyes, knows she's probably remembering the last time he dropped in on her just because he "wanted to see her."

"Is it Sam?" Elena presses, and edges closer to him. Dean tries to force himself back, but what he really wants to do is hold her and tell her the truth. And maybe say goodbye if Sam's plan and the "vamp cure" doesn't work.

Well, his _other_ instincts are craving her too, but Dean's fighting it so badly he's sure he's sweating.

"No…"

"Then what?" she asks, and succeeds in gently grasping his arm with one hand and laying the other on his chest. "You promised you'd tell me if something serious went down."

His fists clench so hard he's shaking. Her touch, so little that it is, is fire under his skin, and he can't help but grab her by the arms tighter than he wanted to. Her eyes widen in surprise, and he both hears and feels her heart accelerate.

 _Just a taste…_

He leans down, lips brushing her chin, then moving down, down until reaching the juncture between her shoulder and her neck.

 _One…_

The smell is intoxicating, making him salivate as he presses his lips against her skin, but he doesn't realize what he's doing until he feels fangs growing in his mouth.

Dean's eyes pop open and he pushes himself away from her. He senses her shock and turns away, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Elena asks earnestly, "tell me, _please!_ "

But before she can take a step towards him, Dean presses himself against the wall and shouts, " _ **Don't.**_ "

His whole body is shaking with the effort of restraint, but he knows he can't turn around or she'll know exactly what's happened. He doesn't know if he can take it, and he doesn't know how much longer he can control what's inside him.

Dean bolts for the door, tearing down the short flight of stairs, and slams the door behind him before making his escape in the Impala.

* * *

When Sam asks how it went, all Dean can say is, " _bad_."

Dean thinks it odd that Sam doesn't press him for specifics.

After the Alpha Vampire escapes Dean, and Samuel cures him of his own vampirism, Dean ditches his phone so Elena can't track him and asks Sam to do the same. Though now that he knows Sam let him get turned in the first place, he's starting to get suspicious of the man calling himself Sam Winchester.

He didn't even try to stop Dean from seeing Elena, not that he would if he wouldn't even stop Dean from getting bitten.

But before he can confront Sam about it, he gets an earful from Bobby.

" _What the hell you doin', boy?_ "

"Hi, Bobby," Dean says flatly, shifting his new cell phone against his ear.

" _Don't you 'hi' me. You wanna tell me what the hell is goin' on with you and your brother?_ " Bobby demands.

"I honestly don't know," Dean says, glancing over at said brother dozing in the passenger seat. "Yet."

" _Well, figure it out, and talk to my niece. If you don't want her findin' ya, you ought to at least give her a clue you're alive._ "

"You know, you're not as peppy now that you've got your soul back," he quips.

" _Just cut the bullshit, all right? I'm serious._ "

Dean exhales deeply, but resists the urge to rub his tired face.

"Okay, Bobby, relax. I actually do need to talk to you about somethin', but it's gotta wait until we get to Illinois."

 _And I can make a beer run by myself_ , he adds mentally.

"… _Fine. I'll be here._ "

"I'll give you a call in a few hours."

" _You_ _ **better.**_ "

"How'd you get my new number any—"

Bobby hangs up before Dean can fully ask the question, but Dean isn't exactly surprised.

* * *

Sam and Dean check into a motel in Calumet City, Illinois, where a string of suicides have the local papers buzzing. While Sam is in the shower, Dean checks his phone.

No new messages, which isn't a shock because the only ones who have this number is Bobby and Samuel. He remembered to transfer all his contacts over before turning off the old phone, though, and while scrolling through them he hovers over her name.

The number is dialing before he realizes what he's done.

" _Hey, you've reached Elena. This is my personal cell, so you must really know me. I probably won't listen to your message so try calling again—_ "

Dean snaps the phone shut just as Sam steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of mist in his wake. He looks down at Dean with a towel over his shoulders and a raised brow.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Nothing," Dean replies. "Tried to call Lena, got her voicemail."

"So you want her to know where we are?"

Dean grabs a change of clothes out of his duffel and heads to the bathroom.

"No, just wanted to let her know we're okay."

* * *

 _Two Days Later_

Her call doesn't exactly come at the most opportune time. Cas apparently is too busy to really help him (some kind of war against Raphael that the angel is completely vague about). Now he's cursed with the truth-spell and he really wants to get to Sam before it wears off, or begins showing it's negative side effects…but he answers anyway.

"Hey."

" _So_ ," Elena hesitates. " _I saw you called…Bobby gave me you're new number._ "

"Yeah, uh…I'm sorry about that."

" _Sure you are._ "

Dean looks skyward in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Lena, but this is actually the worst time in the universe to talk," he says. "Can we do this later?"

Her voice hardens with her reply, " _You showed up in the middle of the night and scared the hell out of me. I've been worried every day since you left without telling me_ _ **one fucking thing**_ _. Why don't we do this now?_ "

He suppresses a sigh and leans against the Impala.

"Look, I can't really explain. It's…complicated."

" _Complicated,_ " she deadpans, her voice deadly quiet. " _ **Complicated?**_ _Dean, I've run my life on_ _ **'complicated.'**_ _Our whole relationship was founded on_ _ **'complicated.'**_ _You want to know the truth?_ "

"Probably not," he says, and runs a hand over his face.

" _You've got so much buried in there. You shove it down and you shove it down. And now you're shoving me out._ "

"That's not true," he protests, even though he knows he has no right to say that.

" _Really?_ " she asks incredulously. " _Because you've barely called in the last few months, been home even less. And when you do call, you tell me just enough to make me so damn frustrated that I'm not there for either of you._ "

There's a heavy sigh on the line, and she continues.

" _But I'm raising your daughter. She's walking, and saying her first words, and making memories you're not a part of._ "

His throat is constricting and he swallows past the well of anxiety bubbling up. It's enough that he can't properly reply, but she beats him to it.

" _You said you didn't want to treat your kid like your dad did, but right now, I'm wondering if this is how Mary used to feel._ "

That hits him sideways. So much that what comes out of his mouth is choked.

"That's not fair, Lena."

" _You want to know what's unfair?_ " she asks, and a weight falls into his stomach when he hears her tears. " _Sam is your world, and I know that. I love him like a brother…but we need you too. I…_ _ **I**_ _need you._ "

Dean's eyes are starting to burn a little. He grips the edge of the Impala's hood in frustration because he doesn't know _how this fucking happened_.

"Lena…"

" _ **This**_ _isn't working, and I don't know what to do._ "

She shudders and sighs.

" _I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all of this over the phone…why I'm telling you at all._ "

"It's not your fault," he replies ruefully.

Dean hates the sound of her crying. Especially when he's the cause and he can't even be there. He should've known better that to answer his phone.

 _Goddamn curse._

"Lena, I'm sorry…I never meant—"

" _You never do_ ," she says, sniffling.

"I'll be there soon, okay?" he says. "We'll straighten this out then."

Her laugh is short, humorless.

"Look, the only thing keepin' me going right now is knowing you're there, safe," he admits, with difficulty. "I promise, after this case…I'm coming home and we're gunna talk."

"… _You're actually coming home?_ "

"In a few days, I'll be there." Dean can't take this anymore either, and she deserves to know about that night. About everything. He needs answers from his brother. Then he needs to see her, and he needs to see his baby girl.

" _For how long?_ " Elena asks.

That's the question, isn't it? How long before the next case, the next hunt for Sam to let him get eaten by some monster. He isn't in a hurry for it.

"However long it takes," Dean says. Whatever it takes to fix the problems he made, and maybe get a semblance of peace before all hell breaks loose. He feels like it's coming again.

" _What about Sam?_ " she asks. Dean pauses, thinking. He looks up at the condo building where he knows Sam is questioning the sister of one of the suicide victims.

"He needs to see Bobby for a while."

* * *

" _I told myself I wanted a family."_

" _And you were lying?" the goddess Veritas asks. Dean glares in her face because she thinks she has him all figured out._

" _What I'm good at is slicin' throats. I'm not a father, I'm a killer._ "

* * *

 _One Day Later_

It's the second longest drive of his life, second only to the night they closed Satan in the Pit. Sam is knocked out in the passenger seat. Literally.

" _Ever since I came back, I am…a better hunter than I've ever been. Nothing scares me anymore," Sam says, more earnest than Dean has seen him since Sam came back from the dead._

" _Nothing does, because I can't_ _ **feel**_ _it. I don't know what's wrong with me," he says. "I think…I think I need help."_

Dean only feels a little guilty now that the red haze of his anger is mostly dissipated. By the time he drops him off at Bobby's, a heap on the old man's sofa, Dean is tired.

Bone deep tired.

Then he gets on the road again.

* * *

 _Two Hours Later_

Every step he takes to get up the porch is too long. He knocks on the door and even with the fatigue set in every one of his muscles, something in him leaps when he hears her coming. Despite how mad she must be at him, Dean knows the sound of her light footfalls nearing the door with anticipation.

The sight of her, flustered with her hand on her hip, gives him the strength to smile faintly.

"So," Elena says, a little breathlessly, but still terse. "You ready to—"

His bag slides off his shoulder and to the floor, and in two slow steps she is in his arms. He can breathe easier then.

His nose finds the crook of her neck and her hair tickles his forehead. At first she is tense, but soon her arms curl around his shoulders, then his neck. One hand slips into his hair, tentative and gentle, while the other rubs up and down his back slowly.

"What's wrong?" she asks warily, only just abandoning her anger. Her voice is still firm, but the underlying tenderness in it calms him. It's more than he's gotten in the past few months with his brother that isn't really his brother.

The breath he takes is shaky, even to his own ears. But she smells like the soap she always makes him buy. The one that's four dollars just for one bar wrapped in some flowery paper (but he buys it every time she asks because she likes it and he likes it on her, and never, never used it on himself when the normal soap ran out).

The warmth from her body against his and the fingers combing through his hair is already soothing the headache he didn't realize he has.

"A lot."

Elena's eyes close, and she rests her head against his shoulder.

"Well…you're home now," she says, and continues to rub his arms and shoulders. "Come on."

Dean lets her guide him into the house and, surprisingly, past the couch. Instead she leads him upstairs, to their bedroom, though they stop on the way so he can check on Annie, who's sleeping soundly. Still, he brushes back his daughter's sandy brown hair and kisses her on the forehead.

Once in their room, Elena has him lay down on the soft bed and she curls up next to him, lays her head on his chest and lets him wrap his arm tightly around her. For a while, neither of them speak.

He knows she's waiting for him.

"I thought you were mad," he says. Elena sighs and looks up at his face. Her hand splays on his chest, and her fingers begin toying with the buttons on his plaid shirt.

"I was. But something obviously happened." Her eyes search his. "If you let me help, we'll figure it out. Like we always do."

Veritas' words come back to him then, along with the things he told her.

" _I told myself I wanted a family."_

Elena's hand is on his chest, reminding him that she's always waited for him. She needs him.

" _What I'm good at is slicin' throats. I'm not a father, I'm a killer._ "

While that's still true, this woman needs him. His daughter needs him, and Sam needs him.

 _I need them too_ , he realizes.

Despite himself, the corner of his mouth lifts.

"Okay."

So he takes a breath, and tells her everything.


	4. In Good Faith

**AN: Thank you to everyone who followed/favorite this story so far, and of course everyone who's reviewed! It's been a while since I've updated, I know, but I finally got a spark for this again. The chapter title cred goes to Survivor.**

 **And just so you all know, this chapter is set after the events of episode 6:11, "Appointment in Samara." Sam finally gets some peace for once.**

* * *

 **Leather and Lace**

 _IV: In Good Faith_

"Stop fidgeting already," Dean snaps. Sam stills in his seat, and Dean feels a pang of pity at the guilt on his brother's face.

"Look, you've got nothing to worry about."

Sam gives him a flat look.

"Really, Dean?"

"What do you think she's gunna do, slam the door in your face?" Dean asks. Sam's expression deflates a bit, and Dean nearly sighs.

"She's been worried about you, Sammy," he says honestly. "She's not mad at you."

"She might resent me though…I wouldn't blame her," Sam says quietly. Dean does sigh this time. He's exhausted, but feels better than he has in months. The only thing he's worried about is the wall Death put up in Sam's mind holding. So far, so good.

"She won't hold it against you," Dean says. "You know her better than that."

Sam quiets after that, but Dean knows he's still nervous as hell.

"Just relax," Dean says. "We'll be there soon."

* * *

When Elena opens the door with Annie on her hip, she looks up at Sam—all hunched shoulders and pitiful puppy eyes not quite meeting hers—and she smiles softly.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. So instead of waiting for him, she gently places Annie into Dean's waiting arms, steps forward, and hugs him warmly. To him it's almost motherly and he hugs her back with shaking arms.

"There's our Sam," she whispers, half muffled by his sweater, and it makes him smile for the first time since he got his soul back.

Eventually she pulls back to greet Dean with a kiss before taking Sam's hand and leading them inside. She gives him the grand tour of the house he hasn't seen yet—the kitchen, living room, the upstairs master bedroom, Annie's room, and finally the guest room, where a queen-sized bed is already made up with a dark blue bedspread.

"We got this house because of the spare bedroom," Elena says, smiling at Sam's wide-eyed reaction. "It's yours whenever you want it."

Sam looks down at his feet for a moment, eyes hidden by his hair, but Elena can see a small smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks," he says. His voice is soft and breaks slightly.

He starts a bit when Dean claps his shoulder.

"You want a beer?" he asks. "Pretty sure there's one in the fridge."

"Sure," Sam replies, easily falling back into a routine he recognizes. Then Elena's eyes light up.

"Oh! If you're hungry, I was about to make lunch," she says. "How does grilled cheese sound?"

Sam looks over at her, then at his brother, who's still holding a fidgeting one-year-old. Annie reaches a little hand out to Sam and he lets her grab hold of his.

She giggles, and her resulting grin is infectious.

"Perfect," Sam replies, and finds himself grinning too. "Yeah, that sounds perfect."

* * *

Sam stays with them for a couple weeks before he decides to do something he promised he'd do a long time ago.

He calls ahead, but only gets a voicemail and nearly loses his nerve. But Elena encourages him, gives him the final shove he needs to get on the road. He doesn't stop until arriving at an apartment building in Greenwich Village in New York City. He takes the elevator up to the fifth floor and stops at a door marked 205, and nearly loses his nerve again.

Sam raises his hand to knock and wills himself to do it. Just _do it_ , _don't be a wuss_.

He takes a breath, and—

"Sam?"

He turns his head, and she's there with two large bags of groceries and the beautiful smile he remembers.

"Sarah," he breathes, then comes back from Cloud Nine back to Earth.

"Uh, here—you need some help?" he asks quickly, and goes to her.

"Oh, uh, no. I got it…actually here," she says, almost as flustered as him as she hands him one of the bags so she can fish inside the pocket of her jeans for keys.

She lets him into the apartment and leads the way to the kitchen, where both set their loads down on the counter. There's an awkward silence afterward as they stare at one another, neither knowing how to start.

"Um, I bought stuff," Sarah says with a small laugh, gesturing to the bags. "Well, I mean, I'm making dinner."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asks, "Do you…want help?"

Sarah tilts her head and smiles.

"Uh, yeah sure. That'd be great," she says, and starts taking out vegetables from one of the bags. "I hope you like salmon."

Sam starts in on the other bag, taking out a large box of Chex Mix.

"Yeah, I do. A lot actually."

"Well, good." She looks over at him and smiles conspiringly. "'Cause I make a damn good fish."

Sam grins and chuckles a little.

"I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

"You've made a good life for yourself here."

"Yeah, it's a nice place. I like my job," Sarah says. She looks through her wine glass as Sauvignon Blanc swirls inside. They're sitting on her couch, full from dinner (which was delicious, if a little awkward), but Sam thinks he'd almost forgotten how much he truly missed Sarah.

She is intelligent and quirky, and bubbly in a way that he can now see is different from Elena, the only other constant woman in his life. Yeah, Elena is intelligent, but quieter (something that Sam thinks complements his brother's louder personality), expressing her emotions more in her body language than in her words. Sarah doesn't exactly wear her heart on her sleeve, but she's easier to read.

"I'm sensing a 'but,'" Sam says, grinning slightly. In the back of his mind he knows what she's going to say before she says it, and he knows he's going to feel guilty once it's out there.

"Don't get me wrong, I have coworkers, friends, and I love the city," she says. Her eyes, those intense blue-grays that always manage to see straight through him, glance away from his.

 _But it seems a little lonely._

"I'm honestly surprised you're still single." He takes advantage of her pause to tackle the elephant in the room, even surprising himself with his boldness. She always had that power to bring out the shy and awkward side of him in the way that Jessica once did.

"I'm more surprised that you still wanted to see me," he finally admits. Sarah sighs and smiles knowingly, then bites her lip.

"My dad, my friends, they all said the same thing, for _years_ ," she says. "'Why can't you just settle down with someone?' 'That guy's moved on by now, why can't you just forget about him already?'"

Sarah sets down her wine glass and shrugs.

"How am I supposed to forget the guy that saved me, the man that understood me without even really knowing me?"

Her eyes stare into his now, blue-gray meeting hazel with all the piercing accuracy he remembers, and it's hard not be sucked in by them.

"I just don't know how much I can trust you," she admits.

It takes him a while to find the words he wants to say (which is new for him). His brain starts and stops before he finally gives into the urge to grab her hand that's resting on her thigh and cradle it between both of his.

"I didn't mean to make you wait so long," he says. "I…I thought you'd give up on me, but…you didn't."

His eyes glance up from their enjoined hands to her face, and there are tears welling up in her eyes. Sam sees uncertainty there, and hurt, and his chest aches because he _**never**_ wanted to hurt her. He won't lie to her and say that he never forgot to think of her, but he damn well never forgot _her_.

"I promised you I'd tell you…what I've been through," he says, but it's hard to think of what he should tell her, if he _should_ tell her in any detail, or what he _could_ tell her without breaking down.

"You _deserve_ to know," he starts again. "I just…there's so much, and I don't…"

 _I don't want to_ _ **scare**_ _you._

He sighs.

"I don't want to keep coming in and out of your life," Sam says. "You deserve better than that, better than me."

And he definitely doesn't want his baggage to become _her_ baggage, her problems, like what happened with Elena. Dean tried so hard to stop it from happening, but looking back, if she hadn't stayed, things could have been a lot worse for him and Dean. Especially Dean.

Slender hands squeeze his, and Sam looks up sharply.

Sarah's eyes are still a little uncertain, but kind. He knows she's thought it before, what his coming and going in her life has been doing to her. But she's still smiling, if only a small one.

"I wouldn't have let you in if I didn't want you in my life," she says, determination in her voice and her eyes that gain a bit of sparkle with her next words. "And I definitely wouldn't have cooked for you if I wasn't willing to listen. Whatever you think I'm ready to hear, I'll hear you out. Whatever comes after that, we'll decide together."

Sam doesn't realize until that moment, with that glimmer of hope that wells in his chest, that he can still imagine them together. He's surprised by how much he truly _wants_ it, wants _her_.

 _Is this it, Dean_? he thinks. _Is this what it feels like?_

He knows he's felt it before, and he can't help but think of Jess. It's a bittersweet thought, so he lets it go in favor of lacing his and Sarah's fingers together.

"Okay," he says.

"Start from the first time you left," Sarah says. "What did you and your brother do after that?"

"Well," Sam leans back against the couch and thinks back. "I think, not too long after that, we were able to find the Colt for the first time…and we found our dad. Or I guess he found us…"

* * *

Dean thinks himself a pretty tolerant person…most of the time.

With his eyes closed in the dark bedroom, he allows soft fingers to trace his jaw line, his nose and lips (even when it tickles), and ghost over his cheeks. Eventually the ministrations stop and he hears a quiet sigh.

"Can we get to sleep now?" he grumbles lowly, but smirks when she squeaks in surprise (it's a reaction he doesn't manage to get out of her very often). His arm curls tighter around the body pressed to his.

"I should've known," Elena mumbles. She melts into him though, shifting so she can rest her head against his broad chest. "Sorry."

"What're you thinkin' about?" Dean asks. She usually falls asleep pretty fast, but he's caught her doing this before when she was completely lost in thought.

"Just thinking...I wonder how Sam's doing," she sighs. "He doesn't catch a lot of breaks with women…"

Dean snorts.

"He catches plenty."

Elena sits up a bit, using the bed as leverage.

"Not what I mean," she looks down at him through narrowed eyes. Even though he can't see her face, he can guess what her expression is.

"You _know_ it's different for him," she continues. "He falls quicker than you do, and when he does…"

Dean could roll his eyes if they weren't still closed. He'd honestly rather not have this conversation now when he's tired and half asleep, but he can tell she's been processing this for a while.

"He holds onto that shit like luggage, I know."

" _Dean_."

He grins and finally opens his eyes. Her face is exactly how he imagined it would be.

"He's just less dense than you," she quips back. "He knows Sarah will be good for him, but he's always held back because of the shit we're always getting ourselves into."

"They'll figure it out," he dismisses, hooks his arm around her shoulders and brings her back to lay comfortably against him despite her sound of surprise.

He's known what she's saying for years, but he and Sam both know there was never really a good time for him to go and search her out without dragging her into their problems.

"You don't sound too worried," Elena says, her voice slightly muffled.

"'Cause I'm not," he says. "If there was gunna be a time for Sammy to go find her, it's now, when we're taking a break from the fight for a while."

Elena can't help but smile.

"Like you came and found me?"

Dean's brow quirks, and he glances down at her though all he can see is the top of her head.

"When?"

"After you told us what happened to you…"

 _In hell_ , he remembers. After he pushed her away, wouldn't let her comfort him. He basically told her she couldn't be in his life, out of self-loathing and fear that he'd hurt her.

"That was a bit different," he says.

"Is it?" she replies. "In a way, it'll be harder for Sam."

Elena lived it along with them, knows their job and all that it entails. While Sarah _knows_ , there's a lot she doesn't know, probably won't understand.

"Maybe," Dean says. But he knows his brother, who's smarter than him when it comes to this stuff.

 _He'll figure it out_ , he thinks, and shuts his eyes.

Dean thinks of that choice he made back then, had he chosen differently and not shown up on her doorstep in Hill City, not given them a chance. What would've happened to him after Sam jumped into the pit, if he'd been alone?

Probably nothing good.

He holds onto Elena more snugly, and that thought drifts away long enough for him to fall asleep.


	5. Hurt

**AN: I know I haven't updated this in a while, but I've had this floating around my files for a while and decided I should go ahead and leave it here for anyone interested in this series. This is kind of a "deleted scene" from** _ **What it Takes**_ **, chapter 3. Or more accurately, season 5 episode 4, "The End."**

* * *

 **Leather and Lace**

 _V: Hurt_

Bobby's house is, most of the time, in a sorry state. Papers stick out in dusty books on shelves; dustier books lie open on most desk and counter space where the odd trinket, beer bottle, or supernatural paraphernalia doesn't occupy. Hunters come in and out—mostly the same hunters, mind you—and leave things out: used dishes, more books and beer bottles, and of course, the occasional takeout boxes.

Bobby's house is made up of a few decades worth of stuff, both supernatural and domestic, varying in levels of physical and emotional danger, but holding too much of either to throw away or even open.

Elena still thinks the house doesn't feel whole, or empty either. Just sad. Like the walls are in a constant and silent state of mourning. Not like her parents' house—frozen and grayed like a twenty-year-old photograph in sepia tones.

Elena thinks, when it's quiet, Bobby's house feels more like him: a warm memory kept alive through pain.

That's what it feels like when it's just her, Bobby, and Dean sitting at the dining table with a round of beers staining rings in old wood while they try not to talk about where Dean's been.

It ends up being impossible for Bobby.

"So…" he says, starting an inevitable conversation. "How was it?"

Dean looks up from staring at his beer.

"It was bad."

The old man nods and rubs the back of his neck.

"Figured as much." And he asks even though it's obvious he'd rather not,

"Did you…see 'im?"

Dean raises his brows. "Who?"

"Ya know…Lucifer."

Elena silently sucks in a breath and watches Dean's reaction. It's minimal, but she sees the brief change in his eyes while he tries to keep his calm front. It tells her he did before he tells them.

"Yeah, we talked," he sighs, and goes for his beer again before continuing. "Cocky son of a bitch."

It's Bobby's turn to raise his brows, and Elena already knows what he's thinking.

"'S not like he lit a match to the whole planet and took over 'r anything."

Dean rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his beer. Elena thinks Bobby is more right than he knows, but she hopes he won't press the issue. Dean looks like he's just barely holding his shit together and she knows he'd rather not come apart in front of both of them.

"I'd love to keep talkin', but I'm fried," Dean says. "I need a shower."

"Need anything?" Elena asks as he's pushing himself away from the table.

"Just a fifty-year nap."

He lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes briefly as he passes by, then takes a change of clothes out of his duffel bag and into the bathroom upstairs.

The door clicks shut and it takes the remaining two hunters a minute before either are ready to leave the conversation at the table. Eventually, Elena collects the empty bottles and drops them off in the kitchen recycling bin.

Before she heads upstairs, her uncle stops her with a supporting hand on her shoulder; a fatherly gesture that steadies her, more than she thought she needed.

"Take care of him tonight," he says. "Boy probably saw Hell again."

She nods, and understanding—almost too heavy—passes between them in the course of a few seconds.

* * *

Elena changes out of her jeans and shirt and into one of Dean's bigger shirts. She goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and feels him watching her when she gets out.

Dean's been idly staring since he got out of the shower and comfortable in bed, sitting up against the headboard. There's a haunted quality to his eyes and it worries her, like he's afraid she'll disappear. She can't say she doesn't feel the same.

So she settles at his side when she gets under the covers, wrapping her arms around his middle, and his arm is surprisingly snug around her. She gives him a minute before she breaks the unsettling quiet they're both feeling.

"You don't have to tell me what happened," Elena says. She didn't even tell Bobby about what happened to her with Zachariah in her mind. Only Cas knows, and she made him promise not to tell Dean. So far as she knows he kept that promise, or else that would've been the first thing Dean would ask her about.

"I know it was bad…I was climbing up the walls knowing I couldn't bring you back," she continues. "But if you need to…"

Dean sighs heavily, and his hand squeezes her hip.

"You did bring me back…where it matters," he says quietly, but the fact that he doesn't explain it only makes Elena more curious. He does, however, talk about a dystopian world and the Croatoan virus and a drugged out Cas. And he talks about a broken man—a shadow of the one she knows—that brings tears to her eyes.

"They got Bobby," his voice cracks, "and I…I lost you."

She buries her face into his chest and cries silently because she knows he doesn't want to himself; he's holding her so tight but she doesn't mind, even if there are going to be small bruises later.

"He somehow got to Sam." Dean's voice cracks again, and even though his face is almost blank she can hear pain. "And I wasn't there for him. I didn't protect him."

Elena sits up in his lap and wipes under his eyes even though he isn't crying, holds his face in her hands, and presses warm lips against his forehead. He closes his eyes and lets her.

"You can be there for him now," she says, and she believes that with everything she has. "We both will."


	6. And It Stoned Me

**AN: Well, haven't updated this in a while. I have plenty of ideas, but lacked the motivation to finally write something. But after binge watching season 11 and 12 of SPN straight through to catch up, I've found the muse again! Now let's just see if I can get anyone interested in this again.**

 **The chapter title credit goes to Van Morrison for the song "And it Stoned Me." The chapter itself is based on the episode "Let it Bleed" from season 6.**

* * *

 **Leather and Lace**

 _VI: And it Stoned Me_

Valerie May Sinclair enjoyed a simple life.

Well, _enjoyed_ maybe was a strong word for having never known anything else _but_ , simple.

Her father was a rich, boring, cheating asshole who sent her the child support checks he used to write to her mother, who was again locked in rehab for nearly overdosing on happy pills, and subsequently violating the restraining order he set on her over a year ago.

Val was thirty-one years old, single, and after eight years, graduating college with a Bachelors in education and history, she still worked in the same old museum as a secretary (for ass-hat Craig, who unfortunately was still her boss).

All while raising a little brother on the verge of puberty.

After receiving full custody of said-cute but awkward and sexually frustrated teenager, Val had not only quelled her former party girl ways (regularly attending raves and smoking the kind of smokes you had to roll by hand), but also resigned herself to a life where everything exciting was happening to everyone else and anywhere else than in Hill City, South Dakota.

That is, until a visit to her best friend in Sioux City ended with some new things Val hadn't experienced before—namely kidnapping, demon possession, and getting stabbed.

In a word, it sucked.

"You lied to me," she wheezed as she gripped the rails of the hospital bed beneath her. "All this time, you were fucking _lying_ to me."

Elena wasn't looking at her, probably _couldn't_ , out of guilt and shame, but Val wanted to see her eyes. Wanted to hear her say it.

"I thought…the less I told you, the safer you'd be." Her best friend did look like shit, like she hadn't slept in days. Her eyes looked tired, red and filled with unshed tears, and Val felt her own welling up, the pain of it bubbling in her throat as she cast the other woman a look of disgust.

"Well that worked out fucking _fantastic_ , didn't it?"

"Val, please," Elena's shoulders shook with the force of her emotion. She looked as if she was just barely managing to hold her shit together, and Val knew Sam and Dean had to be on the other side of that hospital door with her brother. "I'm so…so sorry. I never meant—"

"For what?" Val demanded. It was taking a lot out of her, to be angry, to even keep her eyes open when there was a barely patched hole in her sternum and what seemed like a thousand wires connected to her and a tube of oxygen in her nose.

She was dying, and she was fucking _furious_.

"For keeping the bat-shit crazy truth from me…about monsters, and angels. About Sam and Dean and how you all stopped the goddamn _apocalypse_ that almost destroyed everything?" Val asked. "Or for putting Matt in danger—letting us take a bullet for you?"

Elena was crying in earnest now, and Val could see Dean peering in through the window, frowning like that probably because he could tell the trajectory of their little talk wasn't going well.

"You better…take care of him when—when I'm gone, goddamn you," Val said after a while. She glared up at Elena with everything she had, even though the painkillers were starting to drown out all the light in the room and make her eyes feel heavy.

"All he's ever had is me." Despair and pain choked her, but she managed to keep talking. "And when I'm gone, he won't have anyone else. S-So you…you better protect him."

* * *

Castiel watched Elena reach out to grab the woman's hand, but with the meager strength she had, the woman tucked her hand closer to her own body. Ducking her head with what he sensed was hurt, shame and grief all at once, Elena whispered a promise back to her, that she would take the child into her care.

She left the woman to rest, and through the door came the boy. He hurt as well, but the angel didn't sense the resentment or betrayal in him that emanated from the woman, who despite her condition, radiated a certain inner strength in the face of her fate—something he'd come to recognize in Sam and Dean whenever they'd faced down death itself.

That… _ **defiance**_ , that he admired.

She did her best to comfort the child, carding her fingers through his hair while he tried to muffle his own crying. Eventually both fell asleep, allowing Castiel to fully enter the room. The woman was of average build, average height (he assumed not much taller than Elena), very pale, auburn hair that appeared dark from perspiration, but shone deep red under the florescent lighting.

In short, unremarkable.

But he had thought so of the Winchester brothers too, once. Of all humanity.

Castiel had been beyond furious to learn that Crowley attempted to capture Elena and her daughter as leverage against Dean, and had nearly ended the demon right then and there.

To learn that his demons had mistakenly taken innocents, ignorant about the truth of angels and demons and everything in between, well that was just a complete disaster. He felt inherently responsible, both for even working with the King of Hell and for the fact that this was something he should've anticipated.

Castiel found them after shaking the information from Crowley, just before Sam and Dean.

He had felt her fighting the demon that inhabited her body, that had threatened to kill the boy—her brother—with a rusty scalpel. He had been too late to prevent the demon from damaging the woman without killing both, but he'd separated her from the child and restrained her long enough for Dean to perform the exorcism.

"Y-You?" Her eyes blinked slowly up at him—a circle of green within the brown that melted together hazel, pinning him in their recognition. He almost didn't register the door opening.

"Cas?" Elena approached slowly, and Dean appeared in the doorway. Sam remained in the hall with Annie in his arms, trying to lull her back to sleep with gentle tones.

"What're _you_ doing here?" Dean asked. Castiel cast his gaze from Dean, to Elena, to the woman, and back to Dean.

"I'm sorry—" he started, but Dean cut him off.

"No one cares," he snapped, and came to stand just behind Elena, laying a hand on her shoulder. Castiel was still deeply saddened by Dean's lack of faith in him, that he was only working with demons so he could prevent Raphael from freeing Lucifer and Michael.

That Dean now saw him as an enemy when it was so unnecessary, and after everything the angel had done for him—everything he'd lost for the Winchesters' sakes…it was hurtful.

"Okay," he said softly. "Well regardless, I didn't come here for you."

The woman had already fallen asleep again, tired from the pain and tranquilized by the painkillers. Castiel reached out and laid his hand on her forehead, and in an instant the wound, as well as the overall trauma to her body, was healed.

"She's fine now," he said, as Elena came to sit beside her friend and held her limp hand. Tears slid down her cheeks as she bowed her head, closing her eyes against them. Castiel waited until she looked up again, and met her gaze with as much earnestness as he had within him.

"I said I'm sorry, and I meant it," he told her, then glanced up at Dean behind her.

"Thank you, Cas," said Elena. He could sense that she was truly thankful for her friend's life. But he could also sense in both she and Dean that trust hadn't been restored.

"I'm just sorry," she continued, "that this doesn't change anything."

"I know," Castiel said eventually. Putting her child in danger was unforgivable.

"But all this aside, I just wanted to fix what I could."

* * *

When Val came to, Señor Blue Eyes ( _the_ _ **angel**_ _, holy fuck_ ), was gone. It was just her, and Mattie, and Elena. For a moment things were quiet, and awkward.

"Guess you're stuck with me for a while longer," she grinned at her brother, who smiled a little back.

"I don't expect you…either of you to forgive me anytime soon," Elena said, her voice quiet. "But I am so sorry. For keeping things from you, and lying to you."

Val stared back at her for a while. She was still angry, but it had dulled some now that she wouldn't be leaving her brother alone. Matt seemed small again, clinging to her hand like he was eight again and not the angsty teen who barely wanted to talk to her in public, let alone be touched. But he seemed to be giving his "aunt" moon eyes as usual, like she hadn't betrayed their trust. Or maybe he was just that quick to forgive.

"We're gunna have to move, aren't we?" she asked. Elena shook her head.

" _We_ definitely do, but they weren't after you." Then she seemed to consider something, and said, "Still, the reason I left Hill City is because of something like this. If you want to move, we can help you."

"If it's all the same," Val deadpanned, "I don't wanna see your face for a while."

The other woman's expression dropped, guilty, but understanding. Elena nodded and gave Matt a small smile before she stood and left them alone.

Once the door was shut, Val welcomed her brother to sit next to her onto the hospital bed. She squished him close, rocking him back and forth and kissing his cheeks until he squawked in protest.

"Ugh...stoooop," he whined, but his twitchy grin gave him away. His sister laughed and settled with her arms still holding him close. Today had been a shitty day.

"What're you thinking, Mattie?" Val asked eventually. Matt picked at the hem of her hospital blanket.

"I'm glad it's all over," he said. Then his eyes found his shoes. "And that you're okay now."

Val's mouth quirked at a smile as she squeezed him in comfort.

"Yeah, we're gunna be okay."

 _Thanks to Blue Eyes…and maybe the jolly plaid giants too._


End file.
